The Influencer Cuddling With a German Adult Film Star

This week, a woman travels the world to pursue love, sex, and content creation: 29, single, on vacation from New York.

DAY ONE

6 a.m. “I’m not sure if our connection aligns with my new phase in life.”

I stare at these specific words within a longer text from the guy I’ve been dating for a year. He sent it late last night, and I read it, felt like shit, ignored it, and tried to sleep. Now, I’m rereading. Ugh. I mean, I prefer breakups over text than IRL. It forces people to get to the point without the awkward tiptoeing.

7 a.m. Deliberately do not text back. I have nothing to say. Part of me saw it coming. He’d applied for a job on the West Coast and was wishy-washy about New York, and we weren’t that serious. It was always casualish, no labels. What I didn’t see coming was why: I’m a sex and wellness influencer, and he basically said I’m too kinky and too entrenched in the community and that he’s actually more traditional than me. Hmmm. Seems like we coulda hashed that out together, but okay. I’m sure that eventually, I’ll say he was right, and we were mismatched for those reasons and more. Right now, it’s too soon.

12 p.m. Decide not to dwell. Let him go. I’m good at compartmentalizing, and I have to pack for back-to-back trips.

5 p.m. Read a text chain from the group going to the dating retreat I’m attending this weekend, hosted by a kinky dating app. I’m imagining Love Island. It’s mostly introductory stuff, like where everyone is from and what they do for work. Nothing overtly flirtatious.

Finally text my ex back: “Thanks for letting me know.”

11 p.m. Before drifting off, I say a little prayer that this retreat brings me a romantic connection more fulfilling than my previous one. I am ethically nonmonogamous, but I would really like a primary partner and would love to find … love. I’ll only be at the retreat for 48 hours because I have more travel right after, but a lot can happen in two days. Right?

DAY TWO

6 a.m. Triple-check I have my passport and leave for the airport.

12:10 p.m. Land in San Salvador and see my driver holding a sign for the retreat. We make small talk, and he tells me we’re waiting to pick up two more people for the two-hour trip to Mizata, a beautiful resort in the middle of a rainforest.

12:25 p.m. The other guests are a tall, hot guy and an equally attractive woman. They’re probably an “open” couple, but a couple nonetheless. Suddenly, I feel discouraged. Is everyone here going to be coupled up?

I’m a “slow burner” with dating — it takes me a long time to feel comfortable and be my true self. I usually have more of a friends-first approach to dating. This week, I want to push myself to be open to whatever comes my way. And I hope things do come my way!

1:30 p.m. The driver pulls over at a bus stop. He says there’s one more person we have to pick up. Praying for an attractive solo guy.

1:35 p.m. A tall, bearded man with dark hair approaches the van. He has an eerie resemblance to my ex. B. introduces himself and says he’s been living nomadically for almost a year. I smile politely and decide I’d like to make out.

3 p.m. The four of us check into the resort. In my room, I overhear two people having sex next door. Already? The ass-smacking and moaning sounds turn me on. Yup: Love Island.

7 p.m. After a nap, I masturbate, imagining B.’s hands around my neck, his tongue on my nipples, his face between my legs … I finish within minutes.

9 p.m. Orientation drinks by the beach. I make eye contact with B., sit next to him, and introduce myself to the group. They’re playing a card game, erotic dares and questions. One card leads to Beard telling us he’s into impact play. Perfect.

10 p.m.  A woman next to me asks for a massage. Even though I’m straight and she’s flirting, I happily give her one, and she returns the favor. B. joins her and takes care of my shoulders and neck as she works on my lower back. Their teamwork feels trance-inducingly good.

12 a.m. People are skinny-dipping in the pool. Not sure I’m ready for that. Making small talk with everyone I can, especially B. He asks to go back to his room with another woman we’re talking to. Oh my God. We head there right away.

12:30 a.m. B. and I kiss slowly for a few seconds, but my nerves get the best of me. I pull away, smiling shyly, and he and the other girl make out. I get on top of him and kiss him for about a minute, then she and I switch. After a half-hour of edging like this, we all admit to jet lag and go to our rooms to sleep.

DAY THREE

9 a.m. Wake up excited to see what today will bring. From here, I’m traveling to Paris for the work trip of a lifetime — a travel brand is flying me there to see its new “self-love” campaign.

11 a.m. Notice B. talking to friends, but I don’t want to interrupt. Occupy myself by taking bikini pictures with a new girlfriend.

12 p.m. I can’t take it. Politely interrupt and ask B. to borrow bug spray. Suave. He leads me to his room and offers to spray my back. I advance things by asking him if it’s cool to take more bikini pictures in front of the full-body mirror facing his bed. He directs my poses, telling me to put one leg slightly in front of the other and tilt my head slightly to the left so that the sun hits my face. I’m so horny for him.

12:30 p.m. B. lifts my chin for a kiss. His belt is on the nightstand, and I ask him to use it on me. We agree on a safe word, “red.” He commands me onto all fours, and I face the mirror and arch my back. He blindfolds me so I can’t anticipate his next move, and, BAM. The first strike. He switches between teasingly gliding his hands down my spine and spanking my ass until I call out, “Red!” We share a naked cuddle and brief nap.

5 p.m. Attend an art class where we make collages out of vintage Playboy magazines. A guy here from L.A. looks a lot like B. (and my ex). We make conversation. I tell him about Paris, and we bond over our love of travel and sex. Maybe later tonight, this will lead somewhere.

9 p.m. Dressed in a French maid outfit for a group dinner, but I tell everyone I’m a sexy zebra because the theme is “animal-inspired” outfits. I take my seat, making eye contact with L.A. guy. Only a few hours until my flight.

3 a.m. Roaming the resort, I spot L.A. guy with friends and sit beside him. This turns into a cuddle session — light touching, nothing crazy. The moment I feel we might kiss, the alarm on my phone goes off. That’s my cue to go to the airport. Look at him longingly and say good-bye.

DAY FOUR

9 a.m. Wondering if I’ll keep in touch with B. or L.A. guy, I scroll through the in-flight movie selection. Dune: Part Two? Nah. Wicked? No. Anora? Okay, fine.

11 a.m. Anora is not the kind of movie I should be watching in public. Every other scene involves jackrabbit sex.

6 p.m. After a layover in Boston and another in Frankfurt, I’m in Paris! In the past four days, I got dumped and went on a dating retreat with strangers. Now, the grand finale: a business trip all about self-love in the most romantic city in the world.

9 p.m. Arrive in my small, charming hotel room and sleep.

DAY FIVE

9 a.m. Breakfast with the group. It’s serendipitous that I’m here with a handful of influencers who also want to focus on self-love. After the way my week started, I’m thinking it’s all you can really rely on.

12 p.m. Send a video of my room to G., an adult-film star from Berlin. I floated the idea of him coming to Paris a few days ago, and just now, he texts back that he’s coming! Yup: Here I am on a self-love trip, already making plans with a man.

G. and I have a platonic, flirty relationship. We’ve known each other for three years after meeting at a sexual-wellness convention in New York. If something was going to happen between us, surely it would’ve already?

8 p.m. After a day of touring beautiful places, I’m officially friends with the other influencers, so we’re all having dinner.

9 p.m. G. texts that he’s on his way to the hotel. I tell the group about him, and funnily enough, one of them is a fan of his porn. He is kinda famous in that world.

10 p.m. In the lobby, I look out for G.’s ocean-blue eyes and give him the biggest hug as soon as he walks in. We go to my room. We’re sharing a bed, and we talk and talk until we fall asleep cuddling.

DAY SIX

9 a.m. Breakfast at the hotel with G. Our waiter says, “I hope you and your wife have a wonderful time in Paris,” and I laugh. I don’t mind the sound of it.

10 a.m. We do all the Parisian touristy things while talking about work, dating, and life.

4 p.m. On an Emily in Paris tour with the other women on the trip, which turns out to be an unforgettable wine-and-cheese tasting. Everyone is asking if I’m going to have sex with my German porn star. I honestly don’t know.

9 p.m. After dinner with the group, I go back to the hotel to crash with G. We have a conversation about family, grief, and God. He recently lost a loved one. It’s not abnormal for us to have deep conversations, but this is the most vulnerable he’s been. It’s secretly a turn-on, but it’s not the time for anything salacious, so we hug.

10 p.m. Do my nighttime skin-care routine and hop into bed. I always sleep naked. He gets undressed too. We get into our usual cuddling position, then chat about silly stuff, like whether or not we’d have sex with a robot. He’s telling me about an erotic virtual-reality movie he just finished filming, about a guy whose fantasy is to have sex with a silicone robot, and it’s making me laugh.

He’s the big spoon. He has an enormous penis, but it’s not hard or tempting to me right now. We doze off.

DAY SEVEN

6 a.m. Wake up giggling when I realize G.’s hand is gripping my left boob in his sleep. My laughter wakes him up, and he gives me one kiss on the cheek and two down my neck. His dick instantly gets hard.

He’s at an ideal angle to enter me from behind, and I twist the upper half of my body so we can kiss. He keeps turning me so we’re face-to-face. Make out slowly with a lot of tongue. He wraps one of his legs between mine, holds my waist, and guides my hips so that my vulva presses and shifts against his leg. My body tenses as I get closer to coming. He puts two fingers inside of me, finishing me off. It’s the fastest I’ve ever orgasmed with a guy, and we haven’t fucked yet.

7 a.m. G. attempts to get on top and fuck me, but we quickly realize that, no matter how wet I am, his dick is too big for me to take without lube. The one thing I didn’t pack. I’m okay with this. It usually takes a long time for me to feel ready for penetrative sex.

12 p.m. Visit a local sex shop with the group. I buy lube, then see the cutest heart-shaped riding crop. Double check.

3 p.m. Attend a masturbation “master class.” All I can think about is what might happen later tonight.

8:30 p.m. Enjoy a moment of solitude in my room before G. gets back from his own day out in Paris. It hits me that I only thought about my ex once or twice since arriving here. It’s a testament to this great city, the lovely people I’ve met, and … yeah, maybe I’m over it.

9 p.m. G. surprises me with a pastry cake from Angélina, a famous Parisian tearoom. I’m shocked he remembered a passing comment I made yesterday about being bummed I hadn’t tried its desserts.

11 p.m. Watching a French movie and falling asleep in each other’s arms. I guess I won’t need the lube after all, but that’s okay. I’m happy to conclude my wild week with a night of peace.

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